Christmas Morning
by razor840
Summary: Wilson and Cameron, after Merry Little Christmas. "Maybe there are no good people left. I don't see any at work. I don't see one when I brush my teeth in the morning." Rated M for some adult situations and language.


Wilson's undershirt looked impossibly, blindingly white and crisp. How was that possible? It had been a rough week, a rough month and he seemed utterly unaffected at the moment. Maybe he was just that good of a liar. I had to say something. This was a bad idea but it did take the edge off.

"I'm sorry," my voice sounded hollow and I was worried that House had turned me into someone I didn't recognize anymore.

"As you can see, I'm utterly mortified," his shoulders were slack, he turned to look at me and smiled a languid, sly smile.

For some reason, it seemed like going to my apartment was better than going to his hotel. It seemed less personal, some how, to have him here. I can't say the sex wasn't good. It didn't even really seemed needy or desperate. I think he just wanted to take a break and feel human for a minute. That was what it was about. I hoped he got what he needed out of it, I hadn't been treating him very well.

Maddy was ok. In the grand scheme of things, that was really all that mattered. At several points throughout this mess, I had the script written out and I was ready to take it over to House's apartment. I just couldn't stand the scheming, the lying. I didn't think it was possible for so many intelligent people to do the wrong thing, so many times. I shouldn't have blamed Cuddy or Wilson. They did allow this situation to fester, but when I recognized what was going on and how wrong it was, I should have quit right then. I didn't want to see House be defeated by his own demons, I didn't want to be partially responsible for the loss of such a great doctor. We're all guilty, we're all responsible for House being locked up in his apartment, cutting himself and getting ready to go to jail. At least, now, we all know where we stand in his universe. I've made excuses for him in the past but I think our relationship will never be as light as it was before this happened. I don't know if I'll be able to work with him again, if he doesn't apologize to Wilson, and Chase. I would like an apology as well, but I wouldn't say I really deserve one. Chase and Wilson deserve one, there really is no question about that. I'll need days to process this. I don't want to think about it with Wilson here, only inches away.

Maybe there are no good people. I don't see any at work. I don't see one when I brush my teeth in the morning.

I wanted to remember everything. I could see little flashes of colored light coming from around my functional, green curtains. I could hear the building's ancient furnace kick on and creak to life. It sounded like a car backfiring. Wilson looked almost otherworldly, only partially illuminated by the small bedside lamp and the amber glow of the small electric heater I kept by the bedside. It was my dad's. He kept it in the garage, using it when he was out there smoking or tinkering around on small engines. It kept the room warm and dry. I keep pricing humidifiers but I've never actually bought one. It really is something you should go to a store to do, so you can see how the filters are actually removed and how easy it is to fill the compartment with water. Plus, if something goes wrong, there is a brick and mortar store you can return it to.

I hadn't planned on having anyone in my apartment tonight. I could see dust on the moldings. There were three coffee cups on my desk; almost definitely stained now, sugar caked on the bottoms. I could only imagine how cold the laminate flooring felt to Wilson's bare feet.

I heard something akin to mirth in his voice. Sometimes when you fuck someone, they don't really seem present and it seems like they're taking something from you, instead of being present there in the moment, with you. When he stopped me in the parking lot, looking vacant, I made the decision to just let go because I could see how painful this was for him. It was painful for me too and I felt helpless, but I think it was worse for Wilson because House never really let me in, the way he let him in. Sometimes I hate myself for caring about House, so I can only imagine how badly I looked from other peoples' perspectives.

I already knew that I wasn't going to get what I wanted from this job. I wasn't going to leave and magically be respected in every medical circle. It would never be taken for granted that I was a great doctor, like it would be for Foreman and Chase. This job wasn't the panacea that I wanted it to be.

All the trappings of Christmas seemed threadbare and dull. I got no joy from the strings of lights on houses because they looked garish, empty. It was worse in the hospital.

It was good sex, it wasn't great. Wilson was a little too gentle. He looked me in the eye, he kissed me, he didn't bite me hard enough.

I hit the wall from an exhaustion standpoint but after my orgasm, I felt strangely awake. I was floating, I wasn't totally there. I hadn't felt like that in a long time.

From the outside, looking in, it might have seemed like a case of substitution. I couldn't fuck House, so I fucked Wilson. Now that I think about it, I never really wanted to fuck House. I've quit thinking about what I really wanted from that situation, because the answers just don't come readily to my mind. I think we got here tonight because Wilson wanted it and I wanted to make him feel better. It wasn't complicated. Everything with House was complicated. I knew Wilson wasn't going to mention this. I knew it wasn't going to become a rumor in the hospital, anymore than it probably already was.

"I'm not sorry about that. I'm sorry for how I treated you today. That is the only thing I have control over, the only thing I'm sorry about," it seemed so strange and wrong to be lounging on the bed next to him, naked.

"Well, I should probably go. Christmas Morning is almost here. You'll probably wants to get some sleep, or call your family, or something."

"Or…We could fuck again. You could smack me around a little bit. It might make you feel better," I sat up and pressed myself against his back, gently running my tongue over his earlobe.

"Allison…" He sounded groggy, detached, almost whispering.

"Why don't you just stay here? I don't mind. We should get some rest. You know that feeling you used to get? That Christmas Morning feeling? That feeling that something good just had to happen? I used to remember the world holding a mystical quality that just isn't there anymore."

I'm embarassed right after the words leave my lips. You don't get philosophical after a one night stand with your colleague, your best bet is to pretend like you're mortified or feign drunkeness. I just can't help but make an awkward situation more awkward. I honestly wouldn't have minded if he stayed, had some breakfast, and maybe held me for a little while.

"You just don't see it," he got up, finger combing his hair.

He sounded both defeated and vital, like he was ready and willing to force himself to do one more thing he really didn't want to do. I knew he was a strong person but this was still mildly shocking.

"We should probably keep this…you know, quiet," He was pulling his pants on, shrugging his shirt on over his shoulders, and the tone of his voice was almost ashamed. He was Dr. Wilson again, he just fucked Dr. Cameron, and the whole thing was dirty, destructive, unbelievably tawdry and beneath him.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm already the hospital tramp, I don't need to give anyone any more ammunition. If House finds out..." he honestly looked shocked for a minute and I don't know why I felt the need to point that out.

"Allison…just…I accept your apology," maybe his hands were shaking as he slid his watch on, I pretended I didn't really see that.

I couldn't help but watch him as he made a hasty retreat out of my bedroom, my apartment, and into the cold, bright light of the morning. I closed my eyes.


End file.
